Am I?
by Dreamless Infinity
Summary: Because we all wonder, sometimes. [Series of oneshots, multi character based.] [Part One: Gaara: Am I Necessary?]


**Disclaimer: **I don't own Naruto. I never will.

_Am I?_

Necessary

" Those eyes … that nose, that mouth. Why? Why is that 'Gaara'? I used to be inside of that, but what am I now?"

_- Gaara. Episode 17, " Gaara's Death ", Naruto, Shippuuden.

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Gaara had never understood emotions well. Well, at least ones that had been separate from hate and anger. Heartache? It was familiar. He had felt it all the time when he was a child; it had returned at times when he got older as well. Sometimes, but rarely. And even that he could hardly understand. He only knew what someone, who himself had helped in breaking him, had told him. He held what that man had called a wound of the heart.

_There are some wounds which can't be healed as easily, however. These are wounds of the heart._

_Wounds … of the heart?_

_Yes, and only one thing can heal them._

Thinking on it now, he really couldn't blame Yashamaru for doing what he'd done. He had caused fear, even at a young age. Yashamaru had tried to love him. He'd at least _tried_. But he couldn't; Gaara killed Yashamaru's beloved sister while she was giving birth to him. He was sure he'd hate the person responsible for killing someone he cared about, as well. The thought of Kankurou or Temari being hurt simply made his blood boil.

_Ah? Really? There's a way to make it go away?! Tell me, Yashamaru! _

_It's love._

" Ai." His murmur was a quiet one. Gaara had not once received any true love in his early years. They were filled with hatred and anger, the cryptic glances and spiteful words pouring salt into his already open, bleeding wounds. His wounds weren't on the outside back then, and even now, they weren't. They were always on the inside.

_I think I understand now. I think I'm injured like everyone else._

_Oh?_

_Yeah. I'm not bleeding, but it really hurts right here._

He'd grown bitter, he realized, as he got older. He had killed more in a childish, if not psychotic, attempt to feel alive. He had forced himself to believe Shukaku was his long departed mother, and in that, if he gave Shukaku the blood he so wanted, that maybe his ' mother ' would love him. All in the while, he never realized he was causing other people wounds of the heart and flesh, as well. He'd been a spoiled brat, and in the end it took someone -- specifically Naruto Uzumaki -- to literally knock some sense into him.

And then it took a little more time … it passed slowly, without regrets. And during that time, many questions had popped up in him. The one that had haunted him the most, even now, in his dying thoughts, was simply …

_Am I necessary? Was my existence ever needed for anyone?_

Of course, back when he'd been a mindless killer, he'd been needed as Suna's weapon. Something to be feared. But as when he'd talked with Kankurou, it wasn't what he had wanted. He wanted to care for his people, and for them to at least respect him. He'd wanted to be Kazekage. And yet, even now, he wasn't sure.

The pain hadn't registered in his body -- his vision was a endless white. He could see himself, hear his thoughts, but it was as if he was floating out of his body. There was no agony, just a clear view of things he'd never bothered with before. And suddenly, as black rimmed jade met black rimmed jade, a realization hit him.

So this was how it was going to end? He almost could feel it forming at his lips. Almost. And another realization struck him. It was such a selfish thing to realize, too. It was that, if he let go now, he wouldn't mind. His eyelids felt heavy, and his body was slowly beginning to go numb. And he could swear, from far away, mournful voices were crying out for his safety. For him? No … it couldn't be. He could only wish to have that feeling. He'd felt it once, love. Only once. And for some reason, something small in him always tugged at him to feel it again.

' It was just … a small … feeling.'

And with the thought, it felt like he was flying. Like a burden had been lifted. Black lids closed and tanned features closed in a free, relaxed state. He never felt it as his body slammed against the ground.

For the first time in fifteen years, Sabaku no Gaara could finally rest in peace.


End file.
